


This Blind Moment

by malinaldarose (coralysendria)



Series: Moments [6]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Choices, Community: trope_bingo, Deathfic, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 22:20:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11723766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coralysendria/pseuds/malinaldarose
Summary: The Ancient One's thoughts....





	This Blind Moment

**Author's Note:**

> This fills the Deathfic square on my Trope Bingo Round 9 card.

She paused, tarrying on the balcony, waiting for her pupil. She had one final lesson to impart before leaving this plane for whatever awaited her. She had no doubt that he would pursue her; he was, still, a physician. While other physicians worked on her dying body, he would attempt to arrest the flight of her soul, if for no other reason than to demand answers for her seeming transgression. Stephen had always needed to _know_ , to _understand_ ; it was why she had allowed him to study as he had pleased -- even when it involved stealing books from the library and reading them on the astral while his body slept.

She gazed outward, at the city, at the water, at the storm. Centuries she had been waiting for this moment. The first time she had glimpsed it in a vision, she had not even had words to describe the sight -- she had been convinced she had seen a kingdom of the Otherworld. 

She had been learning the magic of her own people then: the laws of nature, the names of the stars, and the gods, the magics of trees and herbs, the moon and sun, and pools and standing stones. So long ago. When she was young. Before the Romans invaded with fire and sword and straight lines that remade the world.

Her people had resisted, but the Romans were nothing if not determined, and in the end, they broke. Her people were scattered or destroyed, their magics extinguished. She had wandered years before finding her way to Agamotto and becoming his pupil. Recognizing the dim spark in her, he had trained her, and imparted to her the secrets that had allowed her to take her place as Sorcerer Supreme -- and keep it for nearly two millennia.

But now..... Now, she had -- at long, long last -- reached the moment beyond which she had never been able to see, neither for herself, nor for anyone else. She did not know what awaited her. She did not fear death. She had been raised to believe that after a brief period of rest, a soul was reborn into the world. It might be nice, she thought, to be reborn as an innocent, to not have the fate of a world resting on her shoulders. Or perhaps she might be released to dwell in the Summerlands. She suspected, however, that her transgression in the matter of using the power of the Dark Dimension, would merit some unpleasantness. As long as she was not consigned to Dormammu's non-existent mercy, she would accept her fate.

Her hope now for the continued safety of this realm rested in Stephen. He had the potential to take her place, to become the next Sorcercer Supreme, although he was not yet ready for such a burden. Despite his quick, agile mind and his surprising talent for sorcery, he had not yet learned the one thing that made an excellent physician great -- or an accomplished sorcerer supreme. He had not developed the understanding of the needs of the greater world beyond himself or the ways his talents could be applied to ameliorate them. He still thought he was only learning the magical skills needed to slot himself back into his old, narrow life, without realizing the gifts he had for increasing the good in this realm. He needed a kick, one way or the other, and if her death was to be the boot, then so be it.

And yet.... Life was such a precious thing, and her guardianship of it a stern duty. Could she give up the one and lay down the other? Could she trust another to take her place? If only she could see some hint of the future branching out from this blind moment.

She felt him coming, his soul like a flame -- but not the flame she needed. True it was that he had made great strides since his first days at Kamar Taj, when his soul had been a small stunted thing, a tiny spark guttering in the night. Now he burned indeed, but she needed more from him -- the warmth of the sun, not his single shielded candle, however bright.

He stood beside her, pleading with her to return to her body. She could, she knew. She could return to it and repair it -- or if she could not, Stephen would repair it for her. She could resume her work, shoulder again the burdens that were even now slipping from her. But at what cost? She would lose Mordo; that had been certain from the moment Stephen revealed the secret of her longevity. Mordo had revered her; he would see this only as a betrayal, not as the necessity it had been. Mordo clung to his ideals like a child clutching a much-loved toy as a shield against the terrors of the night. But perhaps Stephen -- brilliant, pragmatic, able to adjust his attitudes when the right bludgeon was applied -- could persuade him otherwise. 

In the end, it came down to faith. Did she trust in Stephen's potential? Could she make that leap of faith? Could she lay down her burdens, trusting in him to take them up?

She looked out at the storm, at the moment she had never seen past, and chose her path.


End file.
